In a hunt for the enthusiast

The Wraithwood thickened around us, the trees pressing close until the way became a suggestion. Chill crept into the air, fog seeping out of all the shadows; it curled around our boots and shrouded the whole forest with an eerie silvery pallor. The voices were now louder, like a great constant murmur that danced, barely within earshot of understanding.

I gripped the shard hard in my hand. Its surface pulsed fitfully, emitting an unrecognizable energy. I followed Lira, the sharp jabs of her movements punctuating the pace, though her shoulders kept tensing in the effort she was exerting. There was no competition between the amount of power that shard yielded and the ways in which the forest could shatter and break us.

"Stay close," she said, her voice low but firm. "This fog isn't natural. If you lose sight of the group, you won't find your way back."

The soldiers murmured their understanding, their faces pale in the dim light. Even Rykard, usually brash and fearless, kept his head down and his eyes forward.

The fog thickened, and the world narrowed to the few feet in front of us. Shadows flickered in the mist, their movements quick and erratic. At first, I thought they were tricks of the light, but then one darted too close, its shape vaguely human but impossibly wrong.

"Did you see that?" Rykard whispered, his voice tight with fear.

"Keep moving," Lira snapped.

We followed, but the shadows grew bolder, as if testing the edges of a herd, circling around us. The whispers grew to voices, clearer, louder.

You don't belong here.

Turn back.

Leave.

My heart beat rapidly as a shadow flashed across my path, disappearing into the fog before I could get any sense of its shape. The shard in my hand was growing colder and the pulse faster.

"What are they?" I whispered barely audible.

"Specters," Lira said darkly. "Rearguard of the ones the forest has devoured."

"Can they hurt us?" Rykard asked.

"Not if we don't let them."

The conviction in her words did not correlate with the apprehension in her eyes.

The track took us through to another clearing, which was smaller and darker. The mist receded a bit to expose a circle of standing stones that were strewn with the same glowing sigils I'd seen in the ruin.

"We halt here," Lira said.

The soldiers tumbled onto the ground, panting with exhaustion. I remained standing, my eyes focused on the stones. They hummed faintly, their energy pulling at the shard in my hand.

"These symbols," I said, taking a step closer. "They're the same as the ones on this shard."

Lira approached me, her eyes passing over the stones. "What does it mean?"

"I don't know," I said. "But I think these stones are connected to the Wraithwood. They're… anchors, maybe. Pieces of whatever is keeping this place alive."

"Can we destroy them?"

The question hung heavy in the air. I looked at the shard, its glow pulsing in time with the symbols.

"Perhaps," I said. "But we would be gambling. If these stones are a part of the power of the forest, then shattering them could enrage it."

Lira snorted. "The forest already hates us."

I had hardly opened my mouth to speak before one of the soldiers screamed. I turned, and I saw a shadow standing over him, its form more defined than it was before. It struck its hand into his chest, and he convulsed, his eyes wide with terror, before he was gone, his body falling to the ground in a heap of blackened ash.

"Form up!" Lira yelled, drawing her sword.

The shadows poured into the clearing, their shapes shifting and flickering. The soldiers scrambled to their feet, weapons clashing against the specters.

"Protect the stones!" Lira yelled.

I gripped the shard, its cold energy coursing through me. One of the shadows lunged at me, its clawed hand swiping through the air. I raised the shard instinctively, and a burst of light erupted from it, throwing the shadow back.

"They're weak to this!" I shouted, holding up the shard.

Lira's eyes narrowed, and she nodded. "Use it!"

I stepped forward, the shard glowing brighter with each step. The specters recoiled, their forms flickering. The soldiers rallied, their courage bolstered by the shard's light.

It was a melee—a swirl of steel and darkness, of breathless whispers and screams. But inch by inch, we thrust them back, the light of the shard carving its way through the shadows.

As the final shadow broke, the clearing went silent. The soldiers stood in a loose circle, their faces pale and exhausted. Four of our number were gone, their ashes spread across the ground.

Lira approached me, her eyes heavy. "The shard saved us," she said. "But we can't depend on it forever."

I nodded, my hand trembling as I slipped the shard back into my pack. The whispers had faded, but the forest still loomed, its presence oppressive.

"What's our next move?" Rykard asked, his voice rough.

She turned toward the standing stones, and her jaw clenched in place. "We need to keep moving. The Wraithwood's not finished with us."

I looked back at the stones, whose glow had faded into dimness. Whatever that power was, it belonged to something much greater, something much darker.

And we'd barely scratched the surface of how vicious the forest truly was.